


The Man in Uniform

by Valonia



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valonia/pseuds/Valonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for seraphinhunter for cherrybina's kink fest.  Prompt: Either Arthur or Eames totally gets off on the other one wearing uniforms and combat boots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man in Uniform

It really doesn't make any sense, Arthur realizes. He's worn a combat uniform exactly like the one that Eames is wearing, and it was nothing but clothing to him at the time. He'd fought alongside other soldiers, also in the same uniform, and never had these kinds of thoughts.

But seeing Eames with dogtags tucked under his shirt and his trousers tucked neatly into his boots, suddenly Arthur wishes that Eames had chosen a different disguise. The t-shirt he's wearing with the camo pants highlights the broadness of Eames' shoulders, and Arthur watches as he spontaneously drops to the floor and starts doing push-ups. Eames' biceps flex, and Arthur's mind flashes him an image of himself lying beneath Eames as he pushes up and down and up again. Eames glances up at him, and his eyebrows raise.

“Really?” Eames asks, recognizing the heated look in Arthur's eyes. “The push-ups?”

“Not just that,” Arthur answers. He swallows and gestures toward Eames. “The whole...”

“Ah,” is all that Eames responds, before he rolls gracefully back up on his feet and advances toward Arthur. “Will you be calling me sir, or are you my superior in this scenario?”

“I'm always your superior, Eames,” Arthur answers automatically, before his brain catches up. “Um.”

“Or are you an innocent civilian, taken by the handsome soldier who's rescued you from some terrible fate?” Eames grins at him wickedly. “Or maybe--”

“Give me twenty,” Arthur commands, and he hasn't heard his own command voice sound this way in years. Eames obediently drops back to the floor, pressing up and down in quick succession. “Hold,” Arthur orders, and Eames freezes, his arms extended. “On your knees.” Eames complies hastily, kneeling with his spine pulled straight.

Arthur circles him, looking down coolly. “What are we going to do about you, Corporal?” he asks. “You seem to be a constant discipline problem.” Arthur stands inches in front of Eames' face. “You're always mouthing off. I've been thinking of a way to shut you up.”

Eames is silent and still before him, hands behind his back and staring straight ahead at Arthur's belt buckle. Arthur allows his hand to brush over Eames' hair, and trails his fingers to feel the closely cropped cut under his fingers. He dips his hand down below Eames' chin and tilts his head up so that their eyes meet. “Do you agree that you need discipline, soldier?”

“Yes, sir,” Eames responds softly.

“Let's see if we can't find a better use for your mouth,” Arthur tells him, and unbuckles his belt. Eames' hands move forward, and Arthur takes a step back. “Hands off,” he commands, and Eames quickly resumes his former position. Arthur pulls out his hard cock and moves forward to brush it against Eames' closed lips.

“Open.” Eames obeys, swallowing him down. Arthur groans as the wet heat of Eames' mouth surrounds his cock. He jerks his hips and Eames follows, rocking back and forth on his knees with Arthur's movements. Arthur runs his hand along Eames' neck and dips down below the collar of his shirt. He lifts the dogtags out from underneath and rubs them between his thumb and forefinger. Eames doesn't stop, still rocking, his own hard cock prominent even beneath the camouflage. Arthur tightens his hand until the chain of the tags is pulled flush against Eames' throat, and lets out another groan when Eames increases his speed.

Eames is taking him deeper now, and Arthur feels the tight muscles of his throat clenching around him. With a sudden cry, he comes, pulling out of Eames' mouth as he does. There are droplets of come on Eames' lips and chin, and Eames licks at it, his hands still held obediently behind his back. Arthur collects the drops with his thumb and pushes it into Eames' mouth for him. He brushes his other hand over Eames' hair once again.

“At ease.”


End file.
